films in the twenties in America: Daisy and Violet Hilton they were called. They were put in freak shows as children, and they had a dreadful life until they managed to escape from their guardian. And Chang and Eng Bunker—those are the really famous ones, of course. The real Siamese ones. They married two sisters, and fathered several children. And then in the twelfth century there were the Biddenden Maids. They were quite rich and they did masses of good works, and there are cakes baked depicting them even today, apparently.’
But Joe did not want to hear about the Biddenden Maids, and he did not want to hear about Daisy and Violet Hilton or any of the other conjoined twins who had managed to lead almost-normal lives. He did not, in fact, think that Melissa should dwell on these cases and he was rather surprised at this man Brannan encouraging it. In fact his mother had said only yesterday—
‘But doesn’t it make you feel better to know that our twins aren’t—well, freaks?’ said Mel, who did not want to know what Joe’s mother had said. ‘That it’s just a—a sly trick of nature, and that if they can be separated they probably won’t even be disabled at all?’
Joe’s face twisted with sudden, rather frightening anger, but he mastered it almost at once, and said that Mel was becoming quite whimsical nowadays—a sly trick of nature indeed!
Mel had known, as soon as the word disabled came out, that it had been a mistake to use it. But once you had said a word you could not unsay it; it lay on the air between you, puckering the air with its ugliness, just as a thought, once formed, stayed stubbornly in your subconscious. Even a dreadful deformed thought that kept sneakily asking if you might have done anything that could have contributed to the twins’ problem. Or even if Joe might be somehow to blame. No, that was a truly ridiculous thought, in fact it was positively Victorian.
Anyway, whatever thoughts might pad softly and treacherously through your subconscious mind, the words disabled and deformed must never ever be allowed to be part of them.
Extract from Charlotte Quinton’s diaries:
1st January 1900
Had no idea that chloroform made one so sick . All very well to talk about, No pain, Mrs Quinton, far better to do it this way; what they don’t tell you is that although the stuff knocks you out for the entire birth, you spend the whole of the next day retching miserably at regular intervals.
It’s slightly peculiar knowing the twins are here after all the waiting. Have not yet seen them, but Dr Austin says they are both girls. Edward will not like that very much—he wanted sons—but I shall love it. I shall love having two daughters, and I can’t wait to meet them.
2nd January: 10 a.m.
Oh God, oh God, can hardly bear to write this. Dr Austin has just told me that the babies are joined to one another—they’re joined . They’re growing out of one another like some dreadful creature in a freak show. That’s why they weren’t brought to me when I came out of horrid chloroform.
I said, ‘When can I see them?’ and Dr Austin looked surprised, as if he had not expected me to ask this. He hrmph’d a bit and eventually said, Well, perhaps a little visit to take a look might be in order, perhaps after lunch when I had had a nap.
Do not want a nap after lunch, and do not want any lunch either. But did not dare to argue with Dr Austin in case he banned me from seeing the babies at all—not sure if doctors able to do this, but would not put it past Edward to be quietly having all kinds of sinister discussions behind my back. He knows a lot of people, my husband, Edward.
My husband. Edward. It’s curious, but I put those words together, and they never seem quite to fit.
He has not yet been to see me, although flowers were delivered—red and white carnations. Expensive and eye-catching, because he would want the nurses to see them and say, Oh, how beautiful! What a generous husband!
But Joe did not want to hear about the Biddenden Maids, and he did not want to hear about Daisy and Violet Hilton or any of the other conjoined twins who had managed to lead almost-normal lives. He did not, in fact, think that Melissa should dwell on these cases and he was rather surprised at this man Brannan encouraging it. In fact his mother had said only yesterday—
‘But doesn’t it make you feel better to know that our twins aren’t—well, freaks?’ said Mel, who did not want to know what Joe’s mother had said. ‘That it’s just a—a sly trick of nature, and that if they can be separated they probably won’t even be disabled at all?’
Joe’s face twisted with sudden, rather frightening anger, but he mastered it almost at once, and said that Mel was becoming quite whimsical nowadays—a sly trick of nature indeed!
Mel had known, as soon as the word disabled came out, that it had been a mistake to use it. But once you had said a word you could not unsay it; it lay on the air between you, puckering the air with its ugliness, just as a thought, once formed, stayed stubbornly in your subconscious. Even a dreadful deformed thought that kept sneakily asking if you might have done anything that could have contributed to the twins’ problem. Or even if Joe might be somehow to blame. No, that was a truly ridiculous thought, in fact it was positively Victorian.
Anyway, whatever thoughts might pad softly and treacherously through your subconscious mind, the words disabled and deformed must never ever be allowed to be part of them.
Extract from Charlotte Quinton’s diaries:
1st January 1900
Had no idea that chloroform made one so sick . All very well to talk about, No pain, Mrs Quinton, far better to do it this way; what they don’t tell you is that although the stuff knocks you out for the entire birth, you spend the whole of the next day retching miserably at regular intervals.
It’s slightly peculiar knowing the twins are here after all the waiting. Have not yet seen them, but Dr Austin says they are both girls. Edward will not like that very much—he wanted sons—but I shall love it. I shall love having two daughters, and I can’t wait to meet them.
2nd January: 10 a.m.
Oh God, oh God, can hardly bear to write this. Dr Austin has just told me that the babies are joined to one another—they’re joined . They’re growing out of one another like some dreadful creature in a freak show. That’s why they weren’t brought to me when I came out of horrid chloroform.
I said, ‘When can I see them?’ and Dr Austin looked surprised, as if he had not expected me to ask this. He hrmph’d a bit and eventually said, Well, perhaps a little visit to take a look might be in order, perhaps after lunch when I had had a nap.
Do not want a nap after lunch, and do not want any lunch either. But did not dare to argue with Dr Austin in case he banned me from seeing the babies at all—not sure if doctors able to do this, but would not put it past Edward to be quietly having all kinds of sinister discussions behind my back. He knows a lot of people, my husband, Edward.
My husband. Edward. It’s curious, but I put those words together, and they never seem quite to fit.
He has not yet been to see me, although flowers were delivered—red and white carnations. Expensive and eye-catching, because he would want the nurses to see them and say, Oh, how beautiful! What a generous husband!
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